


The Guardian: A New Beginning

by kateyes085



Series: The Guardian [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Humor, Developing Relationship, F/M, Implied Relationships, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyes085/pseuds/kateyes085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, Dean Winchester stopped the apocalypse and saved the world with the help of a demon called Crowley, who became the King of Hell. Little did he know that years later Crowley would take on a different title, son-in-law. If he knew back then what he knew now, Crowley's bones would have been dust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guardian: A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final installment of a verse I am working on. A character list/family tree will be provided.

 

 

 

"You’ve literally been to Heaven and Hell and back again, faced down the devil and stopped an apocalypse. You can do this Dean," Sam tells him reassuringly, his giant girly man-paw squeezing Dean’s shoulder.

"No," Dean gulps in a terrified manner. "No, I can’t. I really, really can’t Sammy."

"Yes, you can," Sam tells him slapping him on the back and gives him a little shove towards the doorway. "Now get in there.

"Couldn’t Johnny …" Dean asks one last time.

"No!" Johnny yells trying unsuccessfully not to cringe at the yelling and screaming coming from the other side of the wall.

Dean stares at the door that separated them from the carnage within. He swallows heavily and turns a decidedly darker shade of green when Lizzie screams, "AHHHHH! I want morphine!" causing every man in the waiting room to cringe. "Where are you, you little feathered bastards? Get in here and make it stop. Fuck! I don't remember this hurting so bad last time. You're doing it wrong!" Lizzie screeches at the doctor who mumbles reply, "Well who asked you? Dean!"

"Ahh, your dulcet dove is calling Dean-o," Gabriel smirks around his lollipop from where he is slouched against the wall watching.

"This is not funny Gabriel," Castiel chastens. He is standing stoically as usual but his head is slightly tilted and his brow is creased slightly in a worried frown, "Do you think they are medicating her properly? I am quite sure they need to check their dosages," Castiel states.

"Bro, women have been delivering babies since the beginning of time. She’ll be fine," Gabriel reassures with mock confidence silently worrying about his girl when she bellows again.

"I can’t do this Sammy," Dean whispers so only his brother could hear him.

Sam turns Dean to look at him grabbing his shoulders and says quietly, "Yes you can. She needs you, man. It’s Lizzie. You have to." Dean gulps and nods. Sam slaps him reassuringly on the shoulder, "Now get in there and deliver my niece and nephew." A scrub-covered Dean turns and walks hesitantly towards the swinging doors of the delivery room before he freaks out again.

 

~*~

 

Dean is sitting in the rocker provided in Lizzie’s room feeding his newborn baby girl, Mary Samantha. Her twin brother, Thomas Johnathon is sleeping in his bassinet near Dean’s foot. Her tiny fingers are wrapped around his little finger as he hums Led Zeppelin's "Traveling Riverside Blues." He pulls away her bottle, "Come on Peanut, that’s enough for now," he tells her and her face scrunches up much like her mother’s and then she burps giving him a drooling lopsided grin. He chuckles softly dabbing her mouth and chin before he rests her against his shoulder and pats her back making her burp again loudly before she settles in, "That’s my girl," he murmurs.

"Is she okay?" Lizzie mumbles weakly from the bed having just woken up.

"She’s fine Mouse, the Monkey is too. The Peanut here’s got my appetite though," he beams proudly causing Lizzie to giggle softly. He walks over settling Mary with her mother before he picks up Tommy and rocks him, as he watches Lizzie, "Johnny and Sammy have taken Mikey and Ben to get some dinner and get them home for school tomorrow." Lizzie nods acknowledgement to the news all her attention focused on one of her two little bundles.

He leans down and kisses Lizzie’s forehead, "Thanks Mouse," he whispers before he turns and settles in the rocker with Tommy for awhile as he hums Metallica's "Some Kind of Monster."

 

~*~

 

When Mary is four, she peaks around the corner to her mother and father's room. They are getting ready to go into town to celebrate their anniversary. Her Momma is wearing a dark silky slip and applying makeup in her bathroom and Daddy walks by dressed only in black slacks and bare feet. He stops and nuzzles the back of Momma's neck, she giggles and they murmur quietly to each other.

Mary sighs at the sight. Some day, she will have someone love her as much as her Daddy loves her Mommy.

"Peanut?" Dean asks when he sees her hovering in the doorway. She runs in stumbling and giggling for him to pick her up. He catches her and twirls her around, blowing raspberries in her neck. Lizzie walks over and kisses her on the cheek.

Mary notices the St. Benedict's medallion that her father wears and the cross her mother wears. She fingers the pendants and asks, "Why do you always wear these?"

Mary and Dean look at each other smiling sadly before they look back at Mary. Lizzie strokes her baby girl's soft, dark waves and leans in to kiss her forehead, "That is a story for another day, Mo croi[[kew1]]($) ."

 

 

 

As usual, Mary was trailing far behind her brothers, Ben and Tommy, trying to catch up.

"Mary! Come on! Uncle Bobby’ll be here today," Tommy yells back to her.

She huffs as only an indignant six-year-old can and continues after them. She straightens her glasses and her backpack and picks up her pace. The boys are just reaching the house when they yell out their greetings to their uncle. Mary picks up her pace to run and see her Uncle Bobby when her toe gets caught in the pavement at the corner of her house, causing her to tumble to the ground. She sniffles and rights herself, checking her knee which is bleeding before she opens her backpack. Momma always makes sure she had Band-Aids because she tends to trip and fall a lot.

She is putting on the Hello Kitty Band-Aid when a dark shadow falls over her. She looks up shielding her eyes from the powerful sun to see a tall, older man dressed in a tailored suit and coat. "Do you need help there, Poppet?" he asks.

Mary pushes her glasses back up her nose. She shakes her head and stands up to dust herself off. She tries to straighten her parochial uniform before she reaches for her backpack. He reaches for it to help her, but she stops him. "Thank you," she says softly, "but I’m not supposed to talk to demons."

"And what makes you think I’m a demon Poppet?" he asks with a smirk.

She looks him up and down. "You don’t fit," she replies.

"I don’t … fit?" he repeats with a puzzled expression.

She nods. "In your vessel, like Uncle Cas," she says.

"Like your Uncle Cas," he repeats again turning to look up at the house and back down at the dark hair little girl. "Then, how do you know I’m a demon?"

She tucked a wisp of ink-black hair that had worked loose from one of her braids over her ear and stared at him with crystal clear emerald eyes that were slightly enlarged due to the size of the lenses in her glasses, "Because," she shrugs, "Uncle Cas is all bright and warm and angelic-y and you …" she pauses thoughtfully, "you’re not." She shifts her backpack and walks around him thinking their conversation finished. He follows her.

She turns abruptly around and the weight of her backpack swinging around causes her to stumble back. "I’m sorry, but my daddy says I’m not supposed to talk to demons … or angels … except for Uncle Cas and Uncle Gabe, but that’s it," she finishes with a quick nod.

"Why can’t you talk to angels other than your uncles?" he asks with a smirk.

"Because they’re …" she blushes remembering what her father calls them, "not nice people," she mumbles readjusting her backpack and turns back to continue on to the house. She turns back abruptly causing her backpack to swing with her narrowly missing hitting the older gentleman.

"Are you Mr. Crowley?" she asks before swinging back to continue her walk, and yet again, the deadly backpack narrowly avoids him. He smirks and follows her. "Because I definitely can’t talk to him," she informs him. "Daddy says bad words when he talks about him to momma. I don’t understand how he’s bad influence on Uncle Bobby. Or why daddy calls him Mrs. Robinson," she says with a confused look on her face that scrunches up her nose. She stops and turns abruptly again. This time, he is ready and avoids the wayward backpack. "Do you know who Mrs. Robinson is?" she asks causing the man to chuckle.

He opens the gate leading to the house for her and she stops to look at him. "You’re definitely Mr. Crowley. He’s the only demon allowed in the house. Momma said so."

She straightens herself up and introduces herself properly, "My name is Mary Samantha Winchester," she says proudly and offers him her hand, which he turns gallantly and kisses. She giggles and blushes, "Daddy’s not gonna be happy, just so you know," she whispers.

"He never is," Crowley replies.

 

~*~

 

Mary leads Crowley in the house by the hand and stops in the threshold of their kitchen.

"I don’t understand why you had to bring him with you, Bobby," Dean yells. "It’s bad enough he shacks up with you most of the time."

Before Lizzie could chastise Dean for his rudeness, Mary speaks up from where she is standing next to Crowley. "Daddy! You should be ashamed of yourself. Any one of us would be sent to our rooms and confession for saying such things about a guest. Now, you apologize." Crowley smirks from where he was standing. Bobby was unsuccessfully trying to swallow a laugh. Sam and Johnny were also watching from the back of the kitchen smirking.

Dean looks at Lizzie for support. She just shakes her head biting her lip trying not to laugh. "This is my house damn it and I …" Dean tries to save face and attempted to growl his response. Any other person would be cowering, but Mary knew her daddy too well.

She lets go of Crowley’s hand and balls up her fists on her hips very similar to the way her mother does when she is mad at Dean. "Daddy," she warns glaring at him from behind her thick glasses.

"Peanut, I’m not gonna just sit by and …" he tries to reason with her. She glares harder and tilts up her chin. Dean sighs in defeat. Johnny discretely hands Sam a dollar. Sam is certain of two things with Dean. He always chose scissors and Mary has him wrapped tightly around her little finger.

Dean clears his throat and darkly states, "Crowley and Bobby, I apologize for my rude behavior, as my daughter has pointed out to me, it is unacceptable and I’m, I'm sorry," he finishes acidly.

Mary beams and skips over to crawl up into his lap and kiss his cheek. Dean notices the Band-Aid on her knee. "Peanut what happened? Did you fall and scrape your knee?" He asks checking her for further injuries. The family is well affiliated with Mary’s clumsy mishaps.

"I’m fine daddy," she mutters brushing him away. "I just tripped on that crack at the corner again. I heard the boys yelling that Uncle Bobby was here and I wanted to see him too. I wasn’t paying attention. Mr. Crowley walked me home," she smiles at her new friend.

"I have to go find Castiel. He gets bored when I’m at school," she explains and climbs off Dean’s lap and runs to Bobby pouncing on his old lap to hug him and kiss his cheek. He gruffly grumbles a welcome to her but hugs her tightly all the same. "We’ve missed you Uncle Bobby," she tells him before she runs to her mother who hands her a snack of carrots in a Ziploc and a drink box.

Sam holds out his hand, "Come on sweet pea, I think he’s in the garden," Mary looks at his hand and back at Crowley.

She runs over and stumbles a little before she stands in front of him. "It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Crowley. Thank you for helping me earlier," she tells him and holds out her hand again. He bends down on takes her hand and kisses the back of it again causing her to blush before she runs off with her uncles.

"Quit corruptin’ my kid," Dean growls.

 

 

~*~

 

 

After the apocalypse, Castiel had settled with the Winchesters in the attic of Lizzie’s childhood home. When the twins were born, he found the validation he sought for the choices he had made during his fall from heaven, so he stayed and helped to take care of his little charges. In them, he saw all the good in humanity that he had fought and rebelled.

He also found that he enjoyed gardening as well as the solitude with his books in the attic. Lizzie had an area cleared for Castiel to farm and tend to his garden. He had many varying species of flowers, trees, vegetables and plants. Year in and year out, he tended his garden and often times, Mary would be at his side.

This is where Crowley found them on one of his next visits. He was fond of the awkward, clumsy little girl. She was a couple of years older now, but still just as inelegant and ungainly as ever.

"Hippocastanum," Castiel asks while he prunes one of the bushes. He was wearing jeans, a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and boots. Mary and Lizzie had insisted that he was not allowed to wear his normal clothes while gardening.

"That’s easy," Mary replies as she weeds through the flowerbed. Wisps of her hair have worked free from her braids again. She has smudges of dirt on her cheek and grass stains on her knees. "Buckeye tree. Uncle Castiel, you can do better than that," she goads him.

Castiel smirks at the bush he was working on. The facial movement is so slight one would not see it unless they knew what they were looking for. "Alkekengii," he says.

"Japanese?" she looks up and asks.

"Chinese Lantern plant," Crowley answers.

Mary startles jumping up to rub the dirt from her hands and clothes and push her hair back into place, "Mr. – Mr. Crowley, when did you arrive? Momma didn’t mention that you and Uncle Bobby were coming for a visit," she says trying to take a step forward and twisting her ankle slightly. She just winces and ignores it.

"Crowley," Castiel acknowledges dryly. Mary glares at him over her shoulder, which he ignores, and returns to his work.

"I thought Bobby could use some time in the sea air. It’s good to get him out of that house every now and again. How are you today Poppet?" he asks.

Mary blushes in response. "I’m fine, Mr. Crowley. Thank you for asking. I’ll. I'll just go and see if momma needs any help," she tells them as she stumbles and runs towards the house.

Crowley watches and winces at her progression. "She still hasn’t grown out of the clumsy stage yet? She’s gotten bigger since the last time I was here," Crowley notes.

"It tends to happen as they grow up. She’s twelve now. It’s been six years," he states dryly. "Why do you keep Bobby away from Sam and Dean for so long?" he asks suspiciously.

"Time just gets away and all that rot. Bobby likes his privacy especially now that he's getting older. He doesn’t want to burden the boys. Despite what you lot think, I really do care for the old geezer," he snaps before he returns to the house.

Later that afternoon, Crowley wanders into the living room and stands in the doorway watching Mary play at her piano. "That is the only place she truly feels accepted and herself," Castiel murmurs quietly behind his shoulder as not to disturb Mary’s concentration.

"She’s quite good," Crowley acknowledges before he steps through the doorway and joins her at her piano stool.

Mary startles and blushes when she sees Crowley, "Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Crowley. Am I disturbing you? I'll go work on my homework," she says in a rush trying to escape before she embarrasses herself again.

"I’m sorry I disturbed you Poppet, are you practicing?" Crowley asks.

"I-I have a recital in a week," she explains nervously.

"Would you mind if I listen to you practice? It’s been a long time since I heard someone who could actually capture [Chopin](http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks/lChopin/all/1/180748305) correctly," he tells her. She shakes her head no and begins to play. When she was finished, she looked up at him uncertainly.

"I think this is the most relaxed and confident I have ever seen you Poppet," Crowley says to her.

"This is the only thing I’m good at," she explains. Crowley makes a questioning sound, so she explains. "Mikey’s a genius, Ben isn’t really our brother but he is more like daddy than any of us, and Tommy? He may be my twin but we are polar opposites. He is smart, funny, athletic and popular. I swear he’s going to be President one day," Crowley makes a smirking questioning sound/gesture to which she replies, "No. I know better than to discuss wishes or deals with a demon, especially you."

She sighed heavily and fingers the keys lightly. "My uncle was possessed by the devil and tried to destroy … everything. My mom and dad literally saved the world, and then there’s me. I know I don’t fit in anywhere, and I accepted that a long time ago. I prefer books and my music to socially interacting with people. My best and only friend is an Archangel who lives in my attic and I can’t seem to do anything without dropping, tripping or falling over it. I just don’t fit in," she shrugs resignedly.

 

 

 

 

It happens so fast. Crowley shows up in the kitchen while Mary and Castiel were discussing her religious studies assignment at the kitchen table. Lizzie was fixing dinner and startles. She looks at Crowley’s face. The snide, snarky, smug look was replaced with a blank mask. "Crowley?" she asks uncertainly.

"Bobby," he replies and vanishes again.

The house jumps into a whirlwind of activity. The family is assembled and Lizzie had plane tickets purchased and bags packed as she tries to reason with Dean that their only option is to fly. Castiel and Gabriel will transport him and Sam and the family will follow.

Bobby had fallen asleep at his desk reading and just did not wake up. This was how Crowley found him. He transports himself to the Winchesters to tell them, but he was just functioning, really, moving through the motions.

Now, he waits for them to arrive. _What was he to do now?_ "Bloody buggerin’ hell Bobby," he mutters hesitating before dropping his hand on Bobby’s cold, stiff shoulder, eyes moist with unshed tears. The King of Hell does not cry. He had forgotten how much it hurts when they go. It had been decades since he sought human companionship. Bobby’s rough, burly demeanor intrigued him. They were compatible and had enjoyed each other’s company. Now, he was alone again.

Castiel and Dean arrived first followed quickly by Gabriel, Sam and Johnny. "Damn it," Dean mutters and Sam walks over to the shell their surrogate father.

"What happened?" Sam asks.

"I found him like that when I arrived," Crowley says stiffly, "just before I came to you."

"We need to move him," Johnny says. "The kids don’t need to see him like that."

Castiel was backing up to the kitchen as his phone was vibrating in the pocket of his trench coat, which he answers.

"Come get me," he hears on the other end.

"Mary, you should come with the others. Now is not the time," he explains.

"Come get me Uncle Castiel. Now," she demands.

"Mary," he tries to reason.

"I need to be there. Now, come get me," she replies and hangs up. Castiel grinds his teeth, pops out and returns with Mary. At five feet, eight inches, Mary is gangly and uncertain in her sixteen-year-old body. Her ink black hair is pulled back in a thick French braid. She is wearing plain khakis a white oxford and a navy cardigan with loafers.

Johnny and Sam go to stand in front of Bobby’s body when Dean spins around. "Mary! You’re supposed to come with your mother," he snaps. She ignores him, walks over to her uncle, and rests her hand on his. "Peanut, I don’t want you to see him like this."

"Why? He passed away doing what he loved, surrounded by his books. He lived a full life. Harsh and cruel at times, but full nonetheless," she says to her father before she turns and whispers a short prayer over him, "We need to take care of him before the others arrive," she says.

A small ceremony was held in town. Some people stopped by but not many. He was cremated as he wished and buried in the plot with his beloved Karen.

At the graveside, Dean, Sam and Crowley stand paying their last respects to the grizzly old hunter. Mary walks up and stands behind them. Dean looks over his shoulder, "You don’t need to be here Peanut," he says.

"Yes I do," she replies simply and leaves with them holding her father’s hand. Mary watches Crowley’s blank face as they return to the house.

Dean was packing up their rental car and everyone was saying their goodbyes. Mary hung back and looked over her shoulder. She could see Crowley fingering the binder of one of Bobby’s old books. He was nursing a scotch as usual. Mary bit her lip and made her decision. She sneaks back into the house and approaches Crowley who really must have been deep in thought because he did not hear her approach. "Mr. Crowley?" she says causing him to startle.

"Bugger it. Need to attach a bell on you luv," he mumbles shaking out his drenched sleeve from where his scotch sloshed. "Well that's just a bloody waste … Whatcha need Poppet?"

"I – I just wanted …" she stutters and wrings her hands she rushes at him to hug him but her foot twists on a rut in the rug and she falls into Crowley crashing him back into the bookcase behind him. His drink fell to the floor and rolled along the knotted wood.

"What the …" he yells striking his head on the old tomes. Mary jerks her head up to apologize as his head ricochets down and the top of her head smashes into his nose. He swears a blue streak as blood leaks through his hand holding his injured nose.

Mary cringes and rubs her head apologizing, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry …" trying to help.

"Mary!" he yells, "Just stop," she freezes and shakes.

Her nerves are stretched to their limits. He never calls her Mary. She had done it this time. _Stupid, stupid clumsy self_ , keeps running through her head. "What the bloody fucking hell is so all fired important child!" he snaps grabbing his handkerchief and angrily wiping his nose.

Mary bites her lip and launches herself forward pressing her lips hard against his. She pulls back, eyes wide in terror with a squeak. Crowley catches a flash of her blushing cheeks before she runs out the door, slamming it behind her. He watches her dash to their car and slams the back door shut.

"Buckle up sweetie," Lizzie tells her daughter. She had an idea why Mary was flushed and looked panicked but she kept it to herself. There was no way she was talking to Dean about this. He would gut Crowley’s vessel before they could blink.

Mary let out a shaky breath and buckled her seatbelt. Tommy was watching her closely. He knew she had a crush on Crowley; in all honesty, he was probably the only one. She shook her head at him. "Dad’s not gonna be happy," he mumbles.

"Dad’s not gonna find out or they’ll find out that you were caught smoking behind the bleachers after gym class and got detention," she snaps. Mary looks out the window as they drive away and Crowley is standing on the porch looking dazed and bloody as he stares after their retreating vehicle.

 

 

 

 

It was another twelve years before Crowley saw Mary again, quite by accident really. After Bobby’s death, Crowley distanced himself from the Winchesters. He carried on with his day-to-day activities, maiming, torture, wheeling and dealing as he always had done through the centuries.

One particular deal brought him to the Boston Symphony where an apprentice was dealing with a lower demon to barter their soul for the opportunity to be first-string chair in the piano concerto that was to be performed at the end of the month. Crowley took a passing interest and surfaced at their performance to seal the deal with the eager young woman, and that was when he saw Mary. She was performing Mozart’s [Piano Concerto #24](http://www.playlist.com/searchbeta/tracks/lMozart/all/1/125566993) at the center stage. Crowley seals the deal and dismisses the girl. He acquires a seat and watches the performance.

As always, Mary was in her element when she was playing. It was her and her piano. The audience and the other musicians were inconsequential in her mind as she always lost herself within her music.

She was older now. It was the first time he had seen her with her hair down. Cascades of thick waves of black rolled down her back. She was dressed plainly in a white blouse, black skirt and flats for the performance. The only thing missing were her glasses. But it was certainly his Poppet. Until that moment, he had not realized that he had truly missed her. Losing Bobby had been painful, and he had not wanted any other dealings with the family afterwards. He arranged for flowers to be delivered to her dressing room.

Mary is surprised when she sees the flowers on her dressing table. The only time she receives flowers are if her parents or Gabriel and Tommy are in town to see a performance. They were pale pink roses. There was an expensively elegant stationary card attached:

>  _You brought Mozart to life with such passion and fire. I look forward to seeing another performance of yours._

She knows the handwriting but from where exactly she cannot place it.

Sara, a violinist apprentice she is acquainted with, comes rushing into her dressing room. "It’s done, it’s done. My appointment is absolute," she preens.

Mary likes Sara and she is a fine violinist but she is young and lacks the experience and patience to acquire the first-string chair nomination. Reservedly, Mary congratulates her, "That’s wonderful Sara. Did the committee approve of your performance?" she asks.

"Well, no. I made a deal …" Mary gets a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"What kind of deal and with whom?" she demands.

"Just a guy, a businessman, he's got a British accent …" she says.

"When did you last see him?" she demands walking quickly to her door.

"Look Mary, I don’t see how any of this is your business. I just sealed the deal and in ten years …" Sara tries to defend herself in a fluster.

"Ten years! Sara what did you do? Damn it! I know he’s here somewhere," Mary worries. She turns the corner and runs into someone. Mary quickly turns to apologize and freezes. "Take it back, Mr. Crowley."

"As always, it’s wonderful to see you Poppet. It’s been years. My how you’ve grown," he leers.

"Crowley?" Sara questions, "No his name’s McLeod."

"Please Mr. Crowley, take it back. She doesn’t understand what she agreed to," Mary implores.

"Is that not what you wanted Sara? Deal’s final. You knew that going into it. I cannot break the contract but I'm sure alternate arrangements can be made if Mary agrees to some new terms, an addendum perhaps?" Crowley smirks.

"Terms, what terms? We’ve had this talk a long time ago Mr. Crowley. I know better than to enter into any agreements with you," Mary reminds him.

"True, luv, so true but this one will be easy. We can call it a pawn trade if you will?" he purrs. She is lovely when her ire is ignited. No one ever takes the time to see beyond the straight-laced almost boring exterior she portrays. Her bloom is ready for plucking, he thinks, and he will be damned if anyone else will get a taste of that sweet morsel.

"Like Uncle Bobby," she replies dryly.

Crowley barely flinches but all semblance of the smooth advertising mogul facade disappears, "Those are my terms Mary, take it or leave."

Mary’s back stiffens. "Sara, if you will excuse us. Mr. Crowley, please escort me back to my dressing room will you," she states as she turns and returns the way she came.

Crowley follows her leaving a confused Sara in their wake, "Does this mean I still get my seat?"

Crowley opens the door for Mary and follows her inside. She turns suddenly in the middle of the room, "What’s the catch?"

"Catch? There’s no catch Poppet. You have something that I want and when I have it, she is released from her contract and you get your soul back," Crowley feigns interest as he picks at an invisible spec of lint from his jacket and walks over and pours himself a drink of his favorite scotch that appears on her side table.

"What do you want?" Mary asks.

Crowley leers and rolls the scotch around in his tumbler. "Something that only you have and only you decide who gets to take it," Mary tilts her head sideways and ponders his riddle. Crowley waits. Mary rights her stare and says nothing. They stare at each other neither twitching a muscle. "Your virginity you daft girl," he snaps finally at the end of his patience.

Mary turns her back to him and pulls a slim phone out from her pocket, types something, closes it and waits. It buzzes shortly afterwards. She opens and reads it, closes and returns the phone to the pocket of her slim skirt. She turns to him and says "okay."

"Okay? You’re not going to try and weasel your way out of it like your father would?" he asks skeptically.

"It is only sex after all," Mary says. "But," she continues, "It will be when I decide, as you’ve already pointed out."

"Done," Crowley agrees. Mary holds out her hand to shake on the deal. Crowley clasps her hand and squeezes, "Gonna take a bit more than that luv," as he pulls her in for a kiss. Mary stiffens in response but does not pull away, nor does she allow him to deepen the kiss. Crowley pulls back with a smug smirk and says, "I’ll be at your place tomorrow then," he says turning to leave.

"You should know Mr. Crowley, I will require you to woo me," she states calmly.

"Woo you? I don’t woo darling," Crowley replies dryly.

"Nevertheless, I should like to be wooed. The idea intrigues me, so in order to get into these panties, as they say, you will have to figure out how to woo in order to proceed with our arranged agreement," she finishes. The right corner of her mouth twitches slightly indicating a barely perceivable smirk.

"You can’t be serious," Crowley says.

"I’m always serious Mr. Crowley. Oh, and just so you are aware, Uncle Castiel has your bones in his possession in case the deal falls through, and we have to proceed by other means of negotiations. I’m sure you understand," she explains.

"Bloody buggering hell Poppet," he mutters, "Seems you are just like your father."

 

 

 

 

Castiel is working in his garden when Crowley finds him. He promptly ignores the demon. Crowley sighs heavily, "I need your help."

Castiel stops pruning the bush he is working on and glances sharply at Crowley. "She is every bit as smart as her brother, Michael, and infinitely more ingenious than Sam. There will be no bartering with her out of your arranged deal and she will not fold either, much like her father. Agree to her terms and concede, it will be easier for you in the end," Castiel advises him.

"You think I don’t know that?" Crowley snaps. "I --," Crowley pauses, "I don’t have a problem with her terms, but …" he looks around to find the right words, "I’m not sure how to … look, you know her better than anyone. Where do I even start?"

Castiel stops his pruning and walks over to his flowers. He chooses three that he snips and hands to Crowley. "Each of us know all of her but we each take something different away from her," he hands Crowley a pale pink rose, "Her father sees her as a delicate blossom, full of every beauty and hope the world has to offer." He hands Crowley a red carnation, "Her brothers see her as plain, dependable and everlasting." Finally, he hands Crowley a daisy, "I see her as dainty, delicate yet durable. She has a strength and fortitude of steel wrapped in a delicate, precious shell. My question to you Crowley is this, how do you see her?"

Crowley looks at the three blossoms in his hand and surveys the mass of flowers that Castiel has cultivated over the years. He walks to the back and chooses a sunflower.

"Why?" Castiel asks.

"Clumsy, uncoordinated, not a stellar eye catcher like a rose, but if you look beyond the surface, the character strength and beauty shines through," he explains while he is looking at the flower.

Castiel stares straight faced at Crowley for a full minute before he decides. "Sunflowers and daisies are her favorites. _Wuthering_ _Heights_ is her favorite book. She reads it every Christmas. She prefers books to candies. She always wanted a puppy but her allergies prevented it. And lastly, she wants the end-all, be-all love you find in Shakespeare but with the endings you see in those teenage movies from the 1980s that she loves. If you cannot give her that Crowley, do not pursue this further because I will incinerate your bones faster than you can blink."

 

~*~

 

The flowers start a couple of days after Crowley’s visit with Castiel. Orchids on Monday with a card complimenting her performance; lilies the next day with another note again complimenting her performance but her hair caught the lighting better when it was down. Before her next performance, a package was delivered with a simple antique emerald hair comb from "C". She wore her hair down with the hairpiece for her performance. When she got backstage again, there were flowers, daisies this time, with a card that simply said, "Lovely, C". He continued for about three weeks sending flowers and intermittently, snippets of poems, annotations, thoughts, and quotes. Sometimes, they would be pulled from books or magazines, other times they were written by his hand.

On the fourth week, Mary is working in her small garden off the back of her brownstone in the city when she receives a text from an unknown number, which she ignores. The person texts back three more times, each one more annoyed than the last and then her phone rings. When she answers, she is greeted with a snarling, snarky Crowley, "How pray tell and I supposed to woo you as you requested if I don’t know where the bleedin’ hell you are!"

Mary smiles softly and tells him her address. Her only reply is an abrupt disconnect of the phone. A few minutes later, she hears an insistent knocking at her door. She stumbles through the house and opens it to find an annoyed Crowley standing at her door with a box in hand, which starts to wiggle. "You gonna let me in Poppet?"

She has a questioning look on her face but opens the door further to let him in. He is frozen by in immovable barrier. He glares at her trying to restrain the vibrating box in his hand. She blushes and bends down to tap the mat at her front door entrance. "Sorry," she mumbles as he walks in, "but you know how daddy can be."

Mary’s home is conservative and rather plain and Spartan other than an abundance of books and a large entertainment unit in the living room. There is a kitchen off to the other side of the front entrance and a staircase leading upstairs. The backdoor is open to a patio and yard in the back surrounded by a brick-wall privacy fence.

Crowley smirks at her over his shoulder and places the box down in the middle of the floor. A head pops out. At least that is what Mary thought it was. "Um, Mr. Crowley? Is that a dog?"

"Yup," he said. It looked like a puppy sort of. The head was huge with protruding jowls and its lower jaw stuck out. Its body has a blackish blue hue to it but it does not seem to have any fur. "The angel told me you’re allergic to dogs, but you always wanted one. I bred him myself," he informs her, "he also told me you live here alone, unprotected."

"What was it bred with?" she asks coming to look closer and investigate. It truly was a hideous specimen. She sits on the floor with it and it crawls in her lap stares at her and swathes the entire half of her face with its large blue-black tongue. She giggles in response and rubs behind its ears. It harrumphs and melts into her panting heavily.

"His mother was bred with a mastiff," Crowley explains.

Mary rubs his ears and ignores the drool and slobber, falling more and more in love with him. "What breed was his mother?" she looks up and asks petting his giant head and smaller gangly body while he chewed softly on her other arm. She had not started sneezing or puffing up yet, so maybe she could keep him.  
"His mother was my prize hellhound," he states.

"Why would you give me a mastiff/hellhound bred dog when you know I’m severely allergic to dogs?" she asks.

"You’re allergic to domestic dogs Poppet. The hellhound breeding will clear that problem. I made sure he’s docile enough to interact with humans and he’ll protect you," he explains.

Mary pats the floor next to her and the dog moves and lies by her side as she stands. "You did not answer my question Mr. Crowley. Why did you bring me a crossbred mastiff puppy?"

"The angel said you always wanted a dog but could never have one because of your allergies. The hellhound mix takes care of that. You want me to woo you, as you put it, and I-I want to make sure you’re protected. I don’t like you living in the city alone. It’s not safe," he mutters.

Mary pushes her glasses up from where they slid down on her nose. She smiles softly at him, places her hand over where his heart should be and leans in. She kisses him briefly on the cheek. "Thank you Mr. Crowley. I will call him Fred."

Crowley blinks and nods at her stiffly. She goes and makes them some tea with Fred following behind her. He refuses to acknowledge that his cheeks are warm or tingling from where she kissed him.

 

~*~

 

Lizzie's cell phone was ringing incessantly. "Tommy? Is everything alright? Slow down? What? What do you mean Mary's cooking?" she looks up in panic.

Dean, Sam and Johnny all pale and then turn green.

"What! No! No, Gabriel can't intervene. Of course, it could turn out worse. He could blow up our house. Stay there, we're coming. Dean, get the check," she says gathering up her coat and purse. So much for their dinner out tonight.

 

~*~

 

She's trying to kill him. That was the only thing Crowley could think of. Demons don’t get violently ill and vomit for two days straight. _What was in that soup?_

He played the role of the doting suitor and complimented her on her … concoction. The stygian witches’ brew was more palatable. I’m dying … again. She’s gonna kill me to get out of the contract. I know it. She baked rolls too. The granite hillsides of his homeland would have been softer on his teeth. Her family arrived panicked after they had sat down to eat. He should have known. Dean eats everything, and he looks at Crowley with nothing but sympathy.

Mary became nervous when here family arrived. "Now, I know I’m not the best cook, but honestly, there is no need for all of this. Mr. Crowley says it’s just fine, right?" she looks so hopeful and beseeching.

He crumbles and lies through his teeth. "Better than me mum’s," he replies smoothly as he swallows the raw acid.

 

~*~

 

A dark haired woman slips up beside Mary when she is checking out at the deli. The woman waves off the checkout person and purrs in Mary’s ear, "You have your father’s eyes. We go way back, he and I."

Mary looks her over and sees her true form. Barely flinching, Mary picks up her bags and addresses her looking up and down. "You are Meg, I assume?"

Meg is slightly taken aback but recovers quickly, "You’ve heard of me?", she leers.

"My father described two of you, I believe his term was, ‘skank hoe’s’, and if I was ever to run into you to walk away. So, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m late to getting back to rehearsal," she replies icily as she passes.

"He lied to you, you know. Crowley? Fed you a line," she announces. "You see Father needs you and your brother. What better way is there than to charm an innocent and then her twin brother will come to rescue her? You Winchesters are all alike, so self-sacrificing. It’s perfect really, and oh so easy. Just had to lay it out to the angel and well … you see where it’s going."

Mary’s face is a frozen mask revealing nothing as she turns and walks out of the delicatessen. "My father will walk again," she promises, "Crowley was more than happy to hand you over on a platter to the angel to save his own ass," Meg yells after her.

Mary calls down to the conductor with apologies of an unforeseen family emergency as she runs home to pack a few things before a taxi took her to the train. Two hours later she was on the ferry crossing to Clark’s Island. It might be foolish to run home, but she did not know what else to do. _Stupid, stupid self. You broke rule number one; never trust a demon._

 __

~*~

 

"What the hell’re you doin’ here Poppet?" Crowley snaps from the doorway of the balcony off the attic. Mary is curled up in a blanket clasping her knees on one of the seat with Fred lying prone in the corner sleeping.

She always came to Castiel’s old room when she is lost and unsure, which seems like most of the time. She only needs to pray to her friend and he would be there in an instant, but now, she just wants the warm comfort she finds in his sanctuary.

Mary sighs wearily. She has not slept well in the last two days that she has been here. Meg’s words taunting her. "Was it strictly about the deal or were you always planning on turning me over to Raphael to be used as bait to draw my brother out?" she asks coldly.

"What?" Crowley asks hesitantly.

"I met the fair Meg a couple of days ago and she was only too happy to outline their plan to restart the apocalypse," she states staring off at the rippling tides and the far off mainland. She turns and stares hard at Crowley waiting for his answer.

"Mary you can’t trust anything that two-bit piece utters," he backpedals not really answering her.

Mary stands and turns sharply. The blanket she had wrapped herself in twisting sharply and snapping around her legs. "Don’t lie to me! It was only ever about sex with you wasn’t it? You never once thought about why I agreed so easily? Come now Mr. Crowley, you’re not an idiot."

"Mary …" he starts.

She growls in disgust and stomps past him, her blanket flying out behind her. She goes into Castiel's room to grab something. She returns and stands closely to Crowley, interrupting his personal space. She grabs his hand and presses a sachet into it, a simple bundle of cloth tied with twine. He looks down at her as she stares at him for a minute … so sad, so lonely, so betrayed and humiliated.

She closes his hand around the sachet, "You are no longer welcome in my home," she says quietly and within a blink he is standing in the front of the house on the sidewalk.

He opens his hand that was clenching the sachet and stares blankly before he throws it to the ground. "No, no, no … Mary!" he yells storming towards the front gate. His hands hiss and sizzle as smoke billows from where he grabs the old iron gate. He glares and growls up at the house willing Mary to come to the door as his eyes turn an opaque white.

 

~*~

 

Mary is walking home from the market when she turns the corner to find Meg with two demons and two hell hounds waiting for her. She startles and drops her bags. Inside, she is terrified; outside, she faces the group with a blank stare as she walks to them.

"What? You’re not gonna cry and beg and make this fun?" Meg taunts.

"There is no logic behind the rational of me attempting to fight you and to cry or beg would just be taxing and emotionally draining, which I can ill afford right now, wouldn’t you agree?" she replies coldly. Meg pouts in response causing Mary to roll her eyes. "You do realize that my family will not be happy."

"I’m lookin forward to it," Meg hisses as her eyes blacken.

Mary does not back down from the barb, "No I don’t think you will," she replies as one of the lesser demons pulls her arm and manhandles her in to the back of their van.

 

~*~

 

Mary quietly smirks to herself as she listens to Raphael and Meg while they continue to argue in the background. She refused to allow them to tie her to a chair. "Why would I leave and where would I go?" she countered.

"She is more insufferable than her father," Raphael gripes. "This plan is fool proof," he says petulantly and loudly.

"No it’s not," Mary counters. "The prophecy calls for my father and my uncle to bring about the apocalypse. It was very specific. And … my father had to open the first seal by shedding blood in hell … And my uncle had to kill Lilith at a certain time and in a certain manner. Face it Raphael, God is on an extended vacation and Gabriel and Castiel are running things in heaven. You would not be able to pull this off no matter which angle you go for. Neither myself nor my brother will say yes to Michael and/or Lucifer and as it stands, you still have to release them from the cage, which I’m sure you would have done already if you could."

Raphael groans quietly to himself. Meg asks quietly, "Why can’t we go back in time? Change the outcome?" Raphael stops to contemplate.

"You would cause a paradox in the space-time continuum and destroy yourselves in the process," Mary responds. Meg stares at Mary, "I know," Mary replies, "It's rather geeky, but it's true. Just ask your angel." Raphael rolls his eyes. This mud monkey is smarter than she looks.

There is a commotion outside with yelling and breaking furniture. Meg and Raphael go to investigate when one of Raphael’s henchmen flies through the concrete wall unconscious.

Mary stands to see what is going on when the dust cleared followed by someone waving away the dust with a slight cough, "Ah, there you are darling, come we must be going," Balthazar says to Mary as he holds out his hand to her. "You’re boyfriend’s busy right now, so do come along."

"Balthazar? My boyfriend? I don’t know what you’re …" she asks in confusion.

"The demon … Crowley, I think his name is. Anyway, the family is here to rescue you and save the day as it were. So come along now, can’t keep the happy reunion delayed any longer," he says ushering her along.

Mary’s jaw tightens and she sits back down. For good measure, she petulantly turns her chair around to ignore them. "I’m not going," she says.

"Mary!" Crowley yells as he is fighting off one of Meg’s demons and one of Raphael’s goons. "Be reasonable Poppet!"

Mary jumps up and stomps over to the entranceway with her fists on her hips and her face scrunched in anger. "Reasonable!" she yells. "You want me to be reasonable? You were trying to get me into your bed for sex and then you were going to turn me over to these two so you could maintain your position in Hell when Lucifer was released. How do you expect me to be reasonable Mr. Crowley? Please, tell me; I wanna know!"

"Well on the surface luv that was the plan but then …" he quibbles as he continues fighting with the demon and Gabriel stabs the lower angel.

"But then what Mr. Crowley!" she yells incredulously.

"He went and fell in love with you," Balthazar snaps having had enough. "Honestly, this is more painful than watching Gabriel moon over the whelp," he says grabbing her wrist and pulling her in as he puts his fingers to her forehead. All Mary hears is Gabriel yelling ‘Hey!’, Raphael’s bellow of rage and Meg’s screech before she is surrounded by the scent of ozone and then she blinks and is in Uncle Bobby’s panic room.

"Mary!" Tommy exclaims as he jumps up from the chair he was sitting on and pulled her into a fierce hug.

"Tommy?" she mumbles into his chest. "Why are we at Uncle Bobby’s?"

"Mom and Dad want to make sure they can’t get to us. Are you okay? We’ve all been so worried. Even Crowley was spitting mad. I think he was trying to overcompensate but he was really worried about you. Is Gabriel okay?" he asks about his angel lover.

"And they say I’m random. He’s …." she is cut off as everyone returns in a rush in and around the panic room.

"Mary!" Dean cries reaching for her and pulling her into a fierce hug and checking for injuries.

"I’m fine, I’m fine …" she mumbles around pinched cheeks and muffled hugs as her mother pulls her away from her father.

Dean walks over to the doorway and out into the basement. "Thanks Crowley. I, um … she’s my baby girl, ya’ know?" he winces and extends his hand.

"Is it true?" Mary asks staring at Crowley. "What Balthazar said?" Crowley refuses to answer or acknowledge either of them.

Dean watches the two of them, "Is what true?" he asks warily. Crowley pales and blushes slightly as he watches Mary. Dean is looking between the two of them. "Oh fuck no," he whispers looking at Lizzie who is biting her lip and scrunching up her nose. He stands in front of Mary blocking her from Crowley’s view.

"Dean," Lizzie warns.

Mary steps around her father and confronts Crowley. His face contorts to a painful expression. "I don’t know how or when, but … yes, yes Poppet."

"You’ve gotta be kidding me!" Dean exclaims. "First Gabriel and Tommy and now this. I blame you Cas, this is all your fault. Gabriel, are you tricking me again? What the fuck? No, my only daughter has not fallen for … Crowley?  I’m not gonna …"Dean fumes pacing back and forth.

Sam and Johnny watch them from the sideline before Sam approaches his brother resting his hand on his brother’s arm. "Dean …"

"No! No Sammy. I won’t allow it," he snarls shrugging off Sam's giant hand.

"It’s not your choice daddy," Mary says as she watches Crowley. "I’ve had a crush on him since I was little girl. He may not be the best choice, but it’s my choice to make daddy, not yours," she tells him quietly.

"Mary, you don’t know what you’re sayin’ Peanut," Dean tries to reason with her.

"I’m twenty eight years old daddy. When do I get to make that decision if not now? Momma had Mikey when she was sixteen. What makes this so different? Is it because he’s a demon, because he’s the King of Hell, because you don’t like him, or is it because I’m the one making the decision and not you. I love you daddy. I love all of you, but I’m sorry, you don’t have a say in this one." She leans in and lightly kisses Crowley on the cheek. "Thank you for coming to save me," she walks out of the room slowly and cautiously. She approaches her oldest and dearest friend, "Please take me home."

 

~*~

 

"After three years, you have such ill respect for our organization as this? You disappear for two weeks without so much as a word?" Mr. Stapleton exclaims. "Unacceptable Mary. That is just unacceptable. I have no choice but to inform you that your services will no longer be required," he finishes coldly.

Mary winces at the news. "I understand the Board’s position, but these were extenuating circumstances," Mary tries just one more time. She loves it here. It’s her home. How exactly is she supposed to explain being kidnapped by an angel and a demon trying to resurrect an apocalypse to end the world? She was in enough trouble as it was. Institutionalization would just be icing on the cake.

"To which you will not explain. How can we take any other stance than this?" he snaps.

"I understand Mr. Stapleton. Please accept my apologies," she says quietly and turns to leave. Mary goes to her dressing room and packs the few possessions she keeps there and brings them out to her car and drives home.

She had to park up the street as her parking place was taken by her neighboring busybody, Mrs. Wilson. She might have to take Gabriel up on his offer to smite her for the hell of it. Shoulders slumped in defeat, she walks up to the brownstone. When she hits the first step, her cell phone rings, she pulls it out and answers, "Hello?"

"Ms. Winchester? This is Brianna Clark of the New York Philharmonic. I have been trying to reach you for some time now. Mr. Stapleton at the Boston Symphony was adamant that you were under a binding contract with them and now I was just informed that your tenure was terminated?"

Mary winces yet again and slouches on her front step. "Yes ma'am. I had a family emergency which pulled me away longer than expected and have since been terminated from their organization."

"Oh how awful. I hope everything is all right?" she asks.

"Yes ma’am. Thank you. But, what can I do for you?" Mary asks.

"Well, the reason I’m calling is I was in Boston a few months ago and I caught the production of the _Variations on a Theme_ by [Pagini](http://pl.st/s/305867025). We have been in dire need of a first chair piano for over a year now, and I think you would be a perfect match. Mr. Stapleton has been completely unreasonable in my attempts to contact you until today. I would like you to come to New York for the weekend and meet with our staff to see if this is something you would be interested in?" Ms. Clark asks.

Mary sits dumfounded on the stoop of her home. "Ms. Clark, um, let me try and understand this correctly. You want me to fill your first chair’s position at the New York Philharmonic?" she questions incredulously.

"Why yes Ms. Winchester and please call me Bri," she replies.

"I would be honored ma’am, I mean Bri." Mary replies.

"Excellent, would it be too presumptuous to arrange a meeting with a Realtor during your visit?" Bri asks hopefully.

"I think that would be a just fine. I need to finalize some things here but other than that …" Mary says.

"Wonderful. I'll leave a ticket for you at the check-in at Logan then, and I look forward to meeting you in person," Brianna finishes their conversation. Mary closes her phone and sits in dumbfounded silence before she starts giggling to herself.

Mary ran up the stairs, stumbling on the last step and pushes her key in to unlock the door. When she pushes in the door, a mountain of colorful balloons tumble out and surrounds her. She is too shocked and tries to push them back in before she tries to get in and see what is going on. She laughs at the absurdity of it all and bounces some of them off of her hand as she wades through the mass of latex and color.

In her living room, Crowley is standing there with a picnic basket. To anyone else, he would appear a blank canvas, but Mary can see the subtle nervous twitches he is masking behind his bravado. "I’ve brought you dinner Poppet. You need something decent to eat," he declares.

Mary smiles softly to herself as she meanders to the French door leading to her garden. When she reaches it, she turns the knob. "No wait!" Crowley yells and tries to reach her.

She giggles and claps happily as the balloons are released outside and float up into the late afternoon sky, "Beautiful," she murmurs.

"Yes," Crowley replies as he watches her.

Mary turns and sees the way he is looking at her. She blushes profusely and bites her lip, "Why?" she asks.

"The angel also told me you wanted grandiose displays, like in the movies and tragically, I am not going to stand in your walkway in the wee hours of the morning with one of those hideous radios playing some maudlin techno-drabble in a four thousand dollar suit. So, that being said," he finish putting down the basket and flicking an imaginary piece of lint off of his sleeve, "This was my alternative." Mary smirks to herself and grabs his basket and the blanket on the back of her recliner and pulls them out to her garden. She lays the blanket down and starts pulling out the contents.

She stands and kicks off her flats and brushes out her skirt as she stands to see Crowley behind her. She gestures to the blanket, "Have a seat,"

"I’m not sitting on that thing," Crowley declares.

She grabs his hand and pulls him forward and shoves him down, "Oh yes you are," she tells him.

"Mary," he whines.

"Don’t you Mary me. Whenever you say my name, you’re cross with me and I don’t like it," she states and begins fixing him a plate that she shoves at him.

"Mary," Crowley tries again. She pointedly scowls at him with a hard glare. He chuckles in response; "Bloody Hell, I’ve missed you …" She blinks at him.

He puts his plate down and turns to her. He stills her hand from making herself a plate. He has to get this right. This will likely be his only shot … "I love you ..." he looks as shocked as she is when he blurts it out. "Bollocks," he mutters not looking happy at all. In fact, he looked like he was in pain.

"Mr. Crowley?" Mary asks cautiously and with great concerned. His face contorts bitterly and painfully. Honestly, he looks like he had just tasted her soup.

"Bloody buggering Hell Poppet. It fuckin’ hurts it does. This is why I don’t get attached to humans. When Bobby … it had been years, decades maybe even a century or two since I had a human companion … but this? I don’t want to. I don’t like it. How did this happen eh? I don’t know. You are the most impossibly stubborn, illogically logical-based, confusing, accident-prone being I have ever met. You are uncharacteristically awkward and you bumble through life with no real regard of your true worth. How you have remained so pure and unjaded I’ll never understand. I just … it was only supposed to be a job. Why did you do this to me?" he complains.

Mary looks at him gently cups his cheek and presses her lips to his, awkward and uncoordinated as with everything. Crowley clasps her face in his hands and takes control of the kiss. Mary melts into his arms and he pushes her back onto the blanket covered grass.

 

~*~

 

There was a canopy tent in Castiel’s garden with chairs set out for those attending, which consisted of the immediate family. On a small platform, Castiel stands to the right, Gabriel in the middle with Crowley on his right and Tommy standing slightly to the back and side. Lizzie is sitting with Mikey and Ben and their girlfriends in the front row to the left with an empty chair next to the aisle. On the right, Sam, Johnny and Balthazar sat waiting.

"Why are we doing this again?" Balthazar asks.

"Mary insists," Sam explains yet again, "since Crowley wants to claim her."

"He hasn’t already?" Balthazar questions stupefied.

Johnny snickers in response. Sam’s hand squeezes his to try and quiet him. "She won’t let him," Sam clarifies.

"She won’t let her mate claim her?" Balthazar asks even more confused.

"Not until the wedding night she says," Tommy replies from the platform with a snort.

"Piss off, the lot of you," Crowley mutters as he straightens the cuff of his expensive tuxedo. "My Poppet wants it done proper, and she'll damn well get it." Fred was lying quietly in the back near the entrance. His head pops up when Mary and Dean arrive.

Dean looks uncomfortable in his tuxedo, but Lizzie had insisted so he did as he was told. Damn, the women in his life have him whipped. His only daughter, his little girl … for all intents and purposes was marrying a demon. He cringes at the thought yet again. He was wise enough not to say anything. For whatever reason, Crowley makes her happy, so he will just sit back and keep his mouth shut. He never wants to see her look so hurt and disappointed at him again, ever.

Crowley swore his heart skipped a beat in his chest. She was lovely. Her gorgeous dark mane was pulled up on the top and secured with the [antique comb](http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://cache0.bigcartel.com/product_images/34727326/175.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.pennymasquerade.com/category/hair-accessories&usg=__P5bkBLWQuiBMtSuzMnIdFTfbej0=&h=175&w=175&sz=13&hl=en&start=29&sig2=Ut9IL-9zDuJ3rnpnAeqcEQ&zoom=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=rLVppQ9Jl29cNM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=100&prev=/search%3Fq%3Dantique%2Bemerald%2Bhaircomb%26start%3D18%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26ndsp%3D18%26biw%3D775%26bih%3D381%26tbm%3Disch&ei=yp7KTcHfGofYgQef4vHwBw) he had given her. She wore a simple white [gown](http://www.bing.com/images/search?q=t+length+wedding+dresses&view=detail&id=EE2B12A8DAA8DE240792241C74CBE97E64A1D251&first=1&FORM=IDFRIR) and her great grandmother’s antique pearl [choker](http://gothic-fusion.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1_4&products_id=287) with her mother’s pearl stud earrings. In her hands, she carried an arrangement of wild flowers and daisies.

Gabriel stands before them in a simple tuxedo when he asks, "And who gives this woman?"

Dean scowls and replies tightly through his teeth, "Her mother and I do." He turns to Mary who is glaring at him and he blushes slightly. He leans in and gently kisses her cheek whispering, "I don’t have to like him or this, but I love you and I respect your decision," he pulls back and looks at her watering eyes and caresses her cheek, "You look beautiful Peanut." He kisses her hand and hands it to Crowley with a dark scowl before he turns and takes his seat with Lizzie, who is quietly sniffling into her tissue. He takes her hand and kisses the back of it, gently squeezing it while he holds it in his lap. His life has turned full circle now. His baby girl is marrying a demon. Fuck his life … no, he thinks … honestly, he wouldn’t change it. He has the family he always wanted and then some.

Mary turns to Castiel and hands him her bouquet. Gabriel watches and asks Crowley and Mary, "You have prepared your own vows?" he asks. They nod in unison.

Crowley turns to Tommy and Tommy places a simple gold band in his hand. He turns to Mary and vows:

> I, Fergus Roderick, take you, Mary Samantha Winchester, to be my partner, loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know. I eagerly anticipate the chance to grow together, getting to know the who you will become, and falling in love a little more every day. I promise to love and cherish you through whatever life may bring us.
> 
> Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you. For where you go, I will go, and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people. And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried.

Mary blushes and sniffles as he places the ring on her finger. She then turns to Castiel who removes another simple gold band from his pocket and places it in her palms. He folds her hand gently and squeezes it as he watches her. She smiles her soft smile at him and turns to Crowley makes her vow.

> I, Mary Samantha Winchester, take you, Fergus Roderick, to be my partner, loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know. I eagerly anticipate the chance to grow together, getting to know the who you will become, and falling in love a little more every day. I promise to love and cherish you through whatever life may bring us.
> 
> Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you. For where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people. And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried. May the Lord do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me.

They hold hands and look at Gabriel. "Well kiss her already," Gabriel smirks.

 

 

 

 

"Mr. Crowley, you’re fussing again," she chastises in a frail, tired voice from where she lays in their bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets as Crowley straightens an imaginary wrinkle that only he can see. For seventy years they had shared this bed. After their wedding and impromptu honeymoon in Rome, they settled in New York in Crowley’s Park East apartment overlooking Central Park. She fulfilled her lifelong dream to play for the New York Philharmonic and did so for forty years until her arthritis was too painful for her to play any more.

"I don’t want you catching a chill Poppet," he mutters as Mary fondly pets her faithful companion Fred from his perch among the pillows. "I don’t know why you let that damned mutt in the bed every night. He hogs the covers and drools all over the place," Crowley snarks.

She places her old, wrinkles arthritic hand over Crowley’s to still him. She smiles softly up at him, "Will you read to me?"

"Of course luv," he murmurs before he kisses her forehead. She turns away and blushes. "Poppet?" he questions.

"I’m old now … old, gray and wrinkly. I never even understood why you wanted me to begin with," she mumbles.

Crowley trails the back of his fingers down her cheek. "You get more beautiful and lovely everyday, my darling," he tells her.

She frowns up at him, "Demons lie," she replies petulantly.

Crowley crosses his arms and faces her, "I haven’t lied to you in seventy years, why would I start now?"

"Because I’m dying," she says honestly. Crowley flinches in response. She smiles sadly and reaches for his fingers pulling him to sit with her. "There’s no point in denying the white elephant in the room. I know you can smell it and have been trying to keep it to yourself." She kisses the back of his hand. "Now, go find something to read for me please and I would love a cup of tea," she tells him and rearranges her covers again and pats her lap for Fred to rest his heavy head. Crowley sighs heavily and turns to do her bidding.

Mary looks at the far corner. "You can come out now," she says and Castiel appears. She smiles at her old friend and holds out her hand. In a blink, he is there holding her hand. "I’m glad it’s going to be you to take me," she says. "They’re all gone now Castiel. I’m the only one left," she reflects quietly on the passing of her family.

She looks over at their new arrival and her eyes widen to see Death standing at the foot of her bed.

"No!" Crowley growls from the doorway. An old book falls to the floor with a thud and the cup and saucer in his other hand crash unnoticed on the floor by his feet. "Not yet, not today. Mary, I can … you don’t have to. Please let me …" he says.

"No," she says simply. "I told you a long time ago. When my time came, that was it. It breaks my heart to leave you, but it’s time my love," she says in a tired withering voice as Crowley's eyes turn an opaque white color. "Please, Mr. Crowley, please respect my wishes," she says as a single tear falls from her eye. Crowley's shoulders slump in defeat.

"May I have a moment, please," she asks Crowley and Castiel. Castiel nods and turns to leave. He rests his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. He stiffens in response. "It’s alright Mr. Crowley, I would like to speak to him for a minute please." begrudgingly he nods, and they turn to step out into the hallway.

"I don’t know what I did to merit you being my reaper," Mary states quietly. "Should I be honored or worried?" she asks honestly.

"I have taken all of the Winchesters since I met your father. I rather enjoyed our meeting. He made an impression," Death replies dryly.

"Yes, my father did tend to make an impression," Mary states with a wistful smile.

"It also seems important that I meet the woman who tamed the King of Hell," he states.

Mary blushes faintly, "Well I don’t know about that," she says simply. "May I say goodbye?" she asks. He nods and walks to the door and opens to let Crowley and Castiel in.

Crowley pushes past and kneels beside Mary clasping her hand as he watches her intently, "I’m not ready yet Poppet,"

Mary caresses his cheek, "Mr. Crowley, now, you’ll be just fine. You existed centuries before I came along," she reassures him. He leans his cheek against her withered hand, "My only regret is that I do have to leave you." Her eyes water and tears fall, "I will miss you my Mr. Crowley," she says as he pushes forward and kisses her. She draws her final breath and rests limply against Crowley. He pulls back to see that she is gone. He looks over his shoulder at Death and down at his hand holding her foot. He bows slightly and disappears.

Crowley looks back over to his beautiful Mary, aged through the years and still the most beautiful creature he had ever known, both inside and out. Castiel walks over and places his hand on Crowley’s shoulder and squeezes. He looks up at Castiel, "Please come to her Clark’s Island house in two days with my bones. I need to get her ready," Crowley says before he turns back and straightens her sheets again.

 

~*~

 

Castiel and Gabriel arrive at noon on the second day with a burlap bag. Crowley is standing in front of the scaffolding that holds his Mary’s body wrapped in sheets on top of the tier.

There was a brief service earlier that day and the great grandchildren of John and Mary Winchester honored their beloved aunt and sympathized with her demon lover. No one ever understood their relationship, but it was solid and true until the end.

Crowley looks over at Castiel and Gabriel before he walks over and steps up on the scaffolding. He lies down and wraps his arm around Mary’s lifeless body. Castiel’s expression is pinched as he frowns. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No other option really. I’m tired Castiel. Who would have thought a Winchester would be my undoing. Scratched and clawed my way up in the ranks of Hell to achieve my position and my Poppet turned it all upside down. Nothing else for me now. So, get on with it then angel," he says.

Castiel places the bag on the ground in front of him and Gabriel snaps his fingers. The bag bursts into flames. They watch Crowley’s body burst into flames that engulf Mary's remains. Crowley whimpers softly as his body turns to dust and the flames and ashes mix with Mary’s as the wind blows through and carries them out to sea.

 

~*~

 

* * *

[[kew1]]($-0)My heart in Gaelic

**Author's Note:**

> All graphics were created by vampirebites13


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